Denial II, Chapter 22: I'll Follow You Down...But Not That Far
Title: Denial II, Chapter 22: I'll Follow You Down...But Not That Far
Authors: darkentwisted with some nudging from robinfanatic
Characters/Pairings: Robin, Much, Carter, Legrand; Semi-OC: Brooks
Rating: PG-13 (Suggestion of Non-Con sex)
Genre: Drama, Angst
Words: 3,764
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe
Notes: Beta'd by robinfanatic , French translation Beta'd by wastingyourgum
Takes place after AU 2x13 but prior to 3x01
Introduction and chapter links for Denial II are here...
Summary: Brooks takes offence at the treatment of a friend.
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Chapter 22: I'll Follow You Down...But Not That Far
There was something peaceful about sitting on top of the world - rather on top of the ship, perched in the crow's nest. Brooks watched the brilliant moonrise dance across dark seas. Millions of stars burned in the night sky, such a romantic sight and he had no one there to enjoy it with. He'd been trying for weeks to knock sense into Carter and Much and he was running out of time. The boat would dock in Marseilles in two days. The knights would be off to Poitiers and still not speaking to each other. They certainly weren't going to get back together without his help.
Clouds were gathering as the end of his watch approached. Far below on the deck he noticed Carter walking toward the bow. His friend continued to mourn the loss of his lover despite his arguments to the contrary. He hid it well when he wanted to.
Brooks concentrated on the other half of the problem. Much couldn't see beyond his own concern for Robin. Damn the people that man hurt in the process. He grumbled to himself. Once a slave, always a slave...and not in a good way.
A flash on the horizon caught Brooks' attention and cleared his mind. He sucked his finger, poked it in the air, and frowned. That's not good, he thought as he scanned the edge of the horizon and watched the stars begin to wink out. He hissed softly as he started down the rope ladder. A tempest and the damn ship is sailing right into it! He looked down again at the blond knight. There seems to be a lot of that going on around here. Sighing deeply, he glanced again at the growing darkness barreling toward them. I was tired of livin' the easy life anyway, he thought to himself.
Much emerged from the hold with a plate of food for his former master. "Robin?" he called, glancing from one end of the boat to the other.
Carter turned at the familiar voice but showed no reaction except to blend further into the dark shadows.
Brooks passed Much on his way to the wheelhouse and gently caught his arm. "Oh no, pretty boy, storm's a coming. Need to get you down below and fast. Lash down what you can. It's going to be a rough one."
Much frowned. Brooks noticed that the former manservant had almost aged overnight. His hair was long and unkempt again and shoved under that stupid, dirty cap. He was a pale ghost of the pretty knight the yeoman loved, and once again, the manservant. Brooks silently cursed the men - again - who troubled his friend. No one that kind should endure so much heartache.
"I must find Robin. He will drown himself and not even care."
Brooks hadn't noticed that Robin was brooding at the stern until Much indicated the dark figure in the distance with a nod. He thumbed his friend's shoulder. "I'll get him for you. Tell the others about the storm. It's too late to steer away now. We'll have to ride it out."
"No." Much was kind but firm. "I will attend him. He won't listen to anyone else."
"And he will listen to you now?" The yeoman almost regretted the words as they left his lips.
Much's face hardened then went back to resigned servitude. "He has to. I am all he has left."
Brooks released Much with a sigh and the knight moved toward the stern. Raised voices met Brooks' ears and he turned at the sound of dishes hitting the deck, an open hand meeting soft flesh, and a surprised cry of pain. He gasped as the former servant went down on his knees at the blow. Much got up without a word and ran into Brooks in tears, covering the bruise already evident near his eye.
"Much?"
"Get him down below, Charles. I...I'm alright." Much blinked back tears. "He doesn't want to hear what I have to say." He headed toward the stairs.
Carter looked toward the stern then made a mental decision and followed his former lover.
Brooks forgot about his trip to the wheelhouse. "Let them figure it out!" He bounded toward the end of the boat. "Locksley!" Lightning crashed as he yanked the archer around to face him. "That was uncalled for!"
"As is a yeoman grabbing a nobleman." Robin wrenched himself out of Brooks' grasp. "Remember yourself or face my sword!"
The slight only served to make the seaman angrier. "You hit my friend!"
"He is my manservant!"
"Was your manservant!" Brooks shouted as lightning arced across the sky. "You are just as deserving the tip of a sword for striking a fellow noble!"
"He is a noble in title only. When he gets back to England that will mean nothing to Prince John. He should have stayed in the Holy Land. Had it been up to me, I would not have him follow me. I did not want him here." Robin's expression turned cold. "The sniveling little traitor does not know his place!"
Brooks sneered at the venomous remark. "I cannot believe you're the same man that Much speaks so glowingly about. Why do you hurt him? He's your best friend. Your only friend," Brooks observed. "How can you treat him like that?"
Rain peppered the deck as the two men argued. Salt spray mixed with ozone of close lightning as the boat started swaying violently.
"I've asked him to leave me alone," Robin spat.
"I think he got the message when you slapped him and threw food overboard that he fixed for you. Aren't there other ways--"
"I know Much! Sometimes when he won't listen... sometimes the back of my hand is all he will respond to." He looked out at the rough water surrounding them. "I am tired of his mothering."
"He doesn't deserve your abuse! He has no one else to care for since you fucked him--"
Robin didn't even bristle at the coarse language. "I don't care what you think he deserves, Brooks!" He turned to face his aggressor. "Why should they have what I cannot?"
The yeoman locked cold eyes with the archer as the night sky and the sea tore open around them. "Because they deserve it!" He grasped the other man's tunic but Robin broke free with a yank. Now Brooks was mad. "I didn't come to fight. Your friend, the man you just backhanded, asked me to get you to safety from this storm, so if that means kicking your arse to get you below deck, bring it on!"
"You think you know everything! I wanted none of this!" Robin shouted. The rain came down hard, soaking into his skin, making him shiver. "I asked Much to leave me alone. I just wanted to mourn my wife and bring her killer to justice. But he wouldn't stop. And that idiot, blasphemous lover of his couldn't hold him."
Brooks had heard enough and lashed out, grimacing as he connected with the first punch. Wincing, he shook his hand. Robin's head snapped to the side but he made no move to defend himself.
"You bastard," Brooks snarled, wiping the rain from his face. "You have no feelings, none except for yourself. If Robin isn't happy, no one can be happy."
Robin smashed his fist into the yeoman's jaw.
"That-a-boy, big leader!" Brooks spat dark blood and grinned. "Get it out so we can get below."
Robin grabbed a fistful of tunic as Brooks braced for another blow. The sailor couldn't resist another remark, knowing he would pay for it instantly. "There's only two things to do when a man gets this close and I am not in the mood for one of them!"
Robin's lip curled in fury as he shoved the other man away. "You are disgusting."
"Takes one to know one, doesn't it?" Brooks huffed as his fist met the archer's solar plexus making him go down gasping for breath. "Don't pretend to be so noble, Locksley. I heard the stories, what you did to him in Acre. How you forced him--"
Robin sputtered as the already blackened sky closed in further around him, "I did not force--"
Wounded soldiers cried in the healer's tents behind them. The stench of burning flesh filled the air. Robin straightened his tunic and strapped his sword to his side. Soft weeping from a dark corner of the tent made him frown. "Make yourself presentable, Much! We are to meet the King for first watch in an hour." The manservant nodded and wiped his bloody nose on his sleeve. He pulled tattered rags covering fresh bruises over his naked form and shamefully averted his master's glare. He dressed quietly, hoping the bleeding would stop before they met the king.
A clap of thunder brought Robin out of his momentary, oxygen-deprived stupor. Brooks' breath was in his face.
"You might as well have," Brooks scoffed. "You took him, body and soul. Poor deluded fool! How could he help but give himself to you. He loves you."
Brooks took another swing. Robin went down again then stood slowly, smiling, savouring the blow to his jaw. He egged Brooks on with a sneer. Brooks needed no goading and charged. Robin brought his clasped hands down hard on the other man's back as Brooks slammed into him, taking them both dangerously close to the railing and the fury of the waves.
"I cared for him!" Robin cried.
Brooks pulled Robin back. "You'll send us both overboard. Let's end this now!"
Robin landed a smack to the yeoman's ear. "I just started!"
Brooks shook his head as much to clear it as to answer. "You stubborn bastard! You could never give him what he really craves. Carter did and you took it! You're always taking from Much. People like you, they don't know how to give, just how to take." He got up and grabbed the outlaw's sleeve. "Fight's over! The storm is getting worse! We are both gonna drown if we stay here!"
"Go away! Let me die!" Robin yanked himself away as the ship pitched. Only the other man's grip kept him from going overboard as a wave washed the deck.
"No, I won't go away. You hurt two of my friends very deeply. I told you when we first met that if you ever hurt that man that we'd have a problem, but I'll have a bigger problem with Much if I let you die. Fight me all you want, Robin. You are coming below."
"Much made his choice--"
"To get killed in your plot for revenge?" Brooks shook his head. "Doesn't sound like a choice to me!" He dodged a blow as he braced for another round with the unreasonable outlaw leader.
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Carter and Legrand watched the exchange of blows and words from the doorway of the hold through the wind and the rain. Much had come up behind them and stared, his good eye wide in disbelief. "They're killing each other! We can't just let them..."
Carter stared uncaring into his tin cup. "Let them. I'm out of mead again." He glanced outside as the two men traded blows. "Besides I haven't seen Brooks that turned on since that night in the desert."
Legrand looked questioningly from Carter to Much. The red in Much's cheeks was a dead give away - there was an interesting story behind that comment.
"Well if you won't go get them I will!" Much said.
Much made for the door but Legrand blocked his path. "No frere, you stay here."
"Get out of my way, Guilluame...please!"
Carter nodded at the Frenchman as he poured himself another drink.
Legrand nodded back and met Much's wild pale blue eyes with his own soft green ones. "Je suis très désolé ... pardonnez-moi, s'il vous plaît."
Much barely had time to blink, or translate, as the Frenchman's fist connected with his jaw. He slumped against a post behind him, instantly unconscious.
"That was effective," Carter mused.
The giant knight grinned sheepishly. "I have to admit I have practiced that in my mind more than once, cher." He picked up the stunned outlaw gently and headed to the sleeping quarters. "John needs company anyway."
"Seasick from the storm?"
Legrand nodded. "He's miserable, poor man, but he can still make sure this one won't get out."
Legrand deposited his load next to John as the giant tossed about in fitful sleep. John woke briefly and his eyes met the other giant's in the semi-darkness. The outlaw nodded in complete understanding and placed a protective arm around his unconscious friend without question. Legrand turned and shook his head smiling at the two men on the bunk as they now both snored softly, he then mentally worked out how to get the other two men fighting on deck down below.
Topside, he found the blond knight looking out the door into the storm. "So we go separate them now, cher?"
Carter shook off his thousand-mile stare and mused, "Quite frankly, I wouldn't care if Charles killed him, but I guess we better go before they manage to take each other overboard."
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Brooks and Robin were soaked to the skin. Blood dribbled from a cut over Brooks' brow. Robin looked worse with a deep purplish bruise already appearing beneath his eye, a bloodied nose, and a split lip. Brooks had a handful of waterlogged tunic as he continued to pummel the other man. Robin was limp as a rag except for the ocassional blood sputtered insults that served as angry encouragement, egging on the other man to punch him again.
"It doesn't even look like he's trying," Legrand observed as Brooks easily pinned Robin to the deck.
"Robin? No, he's not," Carter replied. He wondered which man was truly enjoying the fight more.
The two knights braved the stinging wind and each grabbed a man to pull him from the other. The ship's crewmen, who were goading the fighters on, hissed in dissatisfaction as the fight ended.
Brooks yelled at Robin above the storm, "You broke this, bow-boy! You fix it."
"Come along, Charles. You're in enough trouble as it is." Carter half-dragged the man to safety below deck.
"It was worth it!" Brooks grinned. "I havent had this much fun since that night in..."
"Don't remind me," Carter blushed.
Robin struggled against the giant as he held his arms fast. "Let me go! You imbecile!"
"We can do this your way or we can do this my way," Legrand gently warned as he held the outlaw leader firmly in his grasp.
Robin furiously tried to tear himself free.
Legrand sighed deeply. "Alright, cher, my way then." Without warning he brought his forehead squarely into the smaller man's and instantly knocked him out cold.
"Don't you ever solve anything by simply talking, Guillame?" Carter questioned with smirk.
Legrand shrugged as he tossed Robin's unconscious body over his shoulder. "I am French, my friends are English...language barrier. Sometimes this is all these uncultured brutes understand."
Brooks grinned as he relaxed in Carter's grip. "I'll do whatever you want, gorgeous. Just don't let that blond side of beef come at me like that."
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Robin squinted out of the small porthole at storm-chopped waves dimly lit by the approaching dawn. His head throbbed. All he clearly remembered was the blur of Legrand's green eyes as they slammed into his. What didn't hurt like hell felt like it was falling off. He just wanted to disappear into the quiet of the dank, dark, tiny room that was the ship's brig and vanish.
Rusty keys clanging against the worm eaten wood of the cell door made him look up and instantly regret it with a stab of pain. He turned back to the view of the ocean as sounds of a struggle and swear words rattled behind him. Soft flesh met hard floor with a thud and the cell door slammed shut again with a clang.
"Fine! throw me off the ship! I was getting tired of rotten food and rickets anyway!" Brooks emphasized his words with a few swift kicks at the door before settling to the damp pile of straw that served as a bed. It was only then he made out the dim form huddled against the side of the ship.
"Still making friends and influencing people I see," Robin snorted quietly.
"And you're the welcome wagon?" Brooks shot back.
Silence fell again embracing both men in the stale darkness. Robin ran his finger along the pitted tin of the window and breathed deep the salt air that washed the foulness of the fetid-smelling cell from his lungs. "How much time..."
"'Til Marseilles? Two days if the weather holds." Brooks stretched out in the darkness but the sound of the cell door made him jerk up suddenly.
"Food's here! Eat or starve!" The old deck hand spat in a corner as the keys scraped again. He turned to the man behind him. "Feed them and go. No funny stuff or over the side with all three of you!" He made a cutting sign at his neck. "Captain is up to here with you lot!"
Brooks smiled as Much walked up to the cell door with the plates. He seemed the worse for wear with the deep bruise to his cheek from Legrand and the shiner that Robin gave him almost closing one eye. But it was the desperately sad look in his eyes that made the yeoman's heart sink. He grasped the other man's hands through the bars after he put the trays down. "Much..."
The former manservant was on the verge of tears as he pulled away shaking his head.
Brooks was wounded but defiant. "What did I do?"
Much cast a baleful look at his former master, then turned and left the deck hand to lock the door.
Brooks shook his head and sniffed at the plate Much gave him. "He's not talking, thats not a good sign, but he's still cooking. This isn't the usual slop Smithy dishes up." He sniffed at the plate again and wrinkled his nose. "But I think this might be the bosun that died suddenly last week." He chuckled before taking a big bite and chewing. "Serves him right for cheating at cards!"
He became mildly annoyed at the lack of response from the previous night's sparring partner. "Okay! I get it! Your wife died, the man who killed her got away, your best mate ran off and married the blond soldier next door, and half your gang up and split on you! Hell! I would hang my head out a porthole and want to die too! But you can't. Those men up there, they need you. Your country needs you. Stop fighting now and that woman of yours and everything she stood for died with her."
"Marian."
"What?"
"Her name was Marian. Marian Locksley. She was my wife for five minutes." Robin turned to face the yeoman and the dust on his cheeks was stained with tears. "How does anyone come back from that?"
Brooks slid across the cell and came up behind the archer. "You don't. But you do honour her, remember her, and move on. You have to. For her."
Silence fell again as both men sat quietly and took in the salt air.
Brooks couldn't help himself as he took in the musky scent of unwashed outlaw and sweat. "It's not so bad, handsome. At least I'm locked in here with you. I know how to make the time go by faster," he purred.
Robin pushed the perved yeoman away in disgust. His lip curled. "Is that all you ever think about?"
Brooks shot a hurt glance at the back of Robin's head. "I think of food and sleep too." He added, "What's the matter, not blond or submissive enough for you, Locksley?"
"Oh back to this again now is it!" Robin spat. "I did not mean to come between them!"
"But you did!"
Robin pressed his face back against the porthole. "I just wanted to be left alone." He muttered softly, almost to himself, "After all I have done to him, why does he still care?"
"Because he's Much. He will follow you down to the gates of Hell if he had to."
More quiet permeated the small room as Robin looked out, lost in thought again. He whispered, "And you?"
The soft voice immediately caught the yeoman's attention. Even in his fury, this man had his moments of vulnerablity. It was almost reassuring to hear the voice of a lost, sad boy come out of the mightly outlaw leader.
Brooks thought for a moment and replied, "You're a good man, Locksley. Flawed, but still a good man. I've known a lot of men, but not any so true to a cause as you are, that they are willing to die for it."
Robin turned with sorrowful upraised brows, adding more to his sudden, child-like demeanor. "Would you follow me?"
"To the gates of hell?" Brooks chuckled and shook his head. "Not that far, but I would follow you." He stretched out again in the darkness and grinned. "So I guess this means I'm part of your gang now."
Robin frowned as he watched the waves, now in full sunlight. "What if we don't want you?"
"You need me."
"We don't..."
Brooks raised up on one arm. "Look...you are already two men down, the other four aren't much on speaking terms with each other and after Poitiers, you're going to lose Carter, Legrand and Much. It'll be you and the big guy. How are you going to exact your revenge against Gisborne with that?"
"What are you talking about?"
"You need me. The knights have a date with their king back in the Holy Land, right? So who do you have in your gang then - you and John. Oh and best of all, me, of course." He winked playfully. "Besides, I'm not taking no for an answer."
Robin paused then sighed. "Alright then, you are in the gang."
Brooks propped his head on his arms in victory. "Yes! Off to Poitiers we go, then England!" His eyes suddenly took on a mischievous sparkle. "Say, I've always wanted to meet this queen of yours. I've heard rumors..."
Robin glared at his new outlaw. "She is the queen mother of England, sir, remember yourself!" He smiled after the other man burst out laughing when he whispered, "They are all true."
The journey continues here!